Physically, there is nothing common between Varsha Bharath, the writer-director of Bad Girl, and Anjali Sivaraman, the titular bad girl. And yet, while I was watching the film, I sensed a mental connection between Varsha and Sivaraman. I could feel the director projecting her own image, experiences, and opinions onto the actor, who, instead of being constrained by them, rose to the occasion by fusing the director's vision with her own identity and experience. No wonder, then, throughout the 112-minute runtime, I saw both Varsha and Sivaraman in the shoes of Ramya. With Bad Girl, Varsha has not just made a striking feature-film debut — she has announced herself as one of the most promising, exciting, and uninhibited filmmakers working today, with a voice so distinct it automatically rises above the sea of mediocre, unimaginative visions. Varsha starts by taking familiar material that could easily have been drenched in cheap pity, preachy lectures, and a shallow "you go girl" energy meant to score brownie points with the audience (especially on social media). Then she subverts expectations by unleashing a deeply subjective lens that pulls us into the eyes, moods, and confusion of the lead character.
When Ramya talks about her wet dreams, fantasizes about a new boy, or impatiently chats with someone on her computer, you can almost feel her breathless desire straining to break free from her own consciousness. Her rage, her frustrations, and her tantrums are similarly let loose with such recklessness that they nearly set the screen on fire. At a graduation ceremony, a visibly drunk Ramya keeps watching Arjun (Sashank Bommireddipalli), pained by the realization that she's been cheated on. Her gestures and body movements take on a fiery fervor, making the whole scene volatile—you simply wait for the explosion. This is also where Varsha subverts your expectations. You think Ramya will create a scene in front of Arjun's parents when his mother mistakes her for someone else and asks her about Arjun's whereabouts. However, that's not exactly what happens. Varsha screams all right, but a little later. Another noteworthy decision Varsha makes is that she doesn't just stop at painting Arjun (as in Arjun Reddy?) with a "fuckboi" image. Yes, he's an idiot, a cheater, but what's interesting is that Bad Girl also makes sure you see that Ramya isn't really a saint either — or, rather, you understand why Arjun could have left Ramya. Her clinginess and unpredictable mood swings could have turned him off. Some shots depict Ramya with shades of madness — she looks unhinged, unstable. This is an intentional choice because Sundari (Shanthipriya), Ramya's mother and a schoolteacher, is referred to as "Psycho Sundari" by students. Like mother, like daughter, I guess.
Again, Varsha could have merely shown Sundari as a product of a patriarchal system — a strict mother so regressively conditioned that she cuts off the cable and the Internet after learning about her daughter's affair with a student. Yes, Sundari is a victim of a society that doesn't value women, but this doesn't mean she is numb towards her daughter's pain. She can feel Ramya's frustrations, which is why she confesses she wants her to study well and go abroad, as she won't face unnecessary restrictions in the West. Look closely, and you will discover that this sympathy, this understanding comes from Sundari's own rebellious nature. She manages to get an education as well as a career, and that too in a household where an old woman (her husband's mother) chides her for prioritizing her profession over her daughter. When Ramya grasps this side of Sundari, she delivers it as a life lesson through a voiceover. And Bad Girl, in fact, is about a mother and a daughter trying to bridge the wide gap between them. It's a mother-daughter love story in that sense. Sundari, in some ways, is like Daulatrao from Sthal. Both characters know they are stifling their child through their decisions, but they are unable to fully fight against their conditioning that has become an innate part of their nature. If Sundari is like Daulatrao, then Ramya reminds you of Tom in (500) Days of Summer. Like Tom, Ramya, after a breakup (or breakups), first remembers the good days of her relationship, then works her way to all the bad parts. And like that superb Marc Webb-directed rom-com drama, Bad Girl is about reality vs expectations. The protagonists in both films imagine an ideal existence, an ideal romance, and are hit by disappointment when reality sends their fantasies crumbling down like a house of cards.
Ramya constantly wonders why she can't have a "normal life" and what's wrong with her. Of course, there's nothing wrong with her. That question often arises in those who dare to go against societal norms but are eventually pulled back toward the same loveless existence led by more orthodox individuals. When Ramya sees a pregnant friend or a woman holding a child, she begins to imagine what her own life might look like with such domestic elements. Yet this "dream" soon reveals itself as a nightmare; there is nothing glorious about ordinary, routine existence. A man confides that he's headed for divorce because his marriage has soured, and a woman appears visibly unhappy while holding her baby during a ritual. Bad Girl suggests that those who lead "normal" lives aren't necessarily happy either—the best they can do is maintain a façade of contentment. Later, an old flame returns to Ramya's life. Though he insists he's happily married and has a child, he and Ramya share an imagined moment of intimacy—one that Varsha captures with a stunning visual flourish, further establishing her confidence as a filmmaker.
Varsha is a keen-eyed filmmaker, and her attention to detail not only comes through in her sharp character observations but also in details like a CRT computer loaded with Windows XP, making that welcome sound after booting up. The director also makes good use of a Mean Girls poster that comes into view just when some girls discuss killing one of Ramya's toxic boyfriends. Varsha also has a great sense of humor — humor that originates organically when Ramya is called to the principal's office and three Ramyas stand up. Or take that scene where Sundari advises three girls to go to the top engineering colleges, and when they say they are commerce students, she tells them to marry engineers. Varsha's subversive streak is again on full display here, as she turns around the tone of a scene that could be all weepy and sentimental. In Bad Girls, Varsha doesn't follow the usual patterns. She creates unconventional rhythms that challenge traditional filmmaking techniques, and the atmosphere she conjures is seductively jarring, dynamic, and out of kilter (Radha Sridhar is the editor). Working with cinematographer Preetha Jayaraman, the writer-director wields the camera as an active observer of moods and gestures, thus creating vivid, turbulent frames that render the movie fresh, alive, and infectiously delirious. Varsha has captured the restless spirit of a restless woman, rendering it with an epic yet intimate touch as the story traces Ramya's journey from childhood to her thirty-something years.
The swift, hectic momentum with which Varsha films her story is faintly reminiscent of Rishab Shetty's directorial style in Kantara. But Shetty's efforts yielded dull results because the speed overshadowed both scale and emotion. Varsha, on the other hand, retains her personal voice; the speed complements her intentions, her ambitions. The expeditious pace, with its nimble back-and-forth structure, mirrors Ramya's tempestuous personality and non-linear thoughts. The effect is like watching a story reveal itself. It feels as if Varsha is discovering her story by telling it; she's finding her film as she films it. This infuses Bad Girl with a spontaneity that comes only from a filmmaker who revels in cinematic freedom — the freedom to narrate a story through free-flowing, incendiary visuals. One can feel Sofia Coppola's blood coursing through Varsha, yet Varsha's vision is her own and it's original. Sure, I would have liked to know Ramya in more dimensions. In one scene, she scolds her father for consuming news (she says it will fill him with hatred), so it would have been nice if Varsha had let Ramya share some of her political opinions. What's more, the cat metaphor is too obvious—it draws too much attention to itself. These issues, though, aren't dealbreakers. For a first-time writer-director, Varsha mostly hits it out of the park, and I hope she smooths such issues out in her next feature. What matters, for now, is that with Bad Girl, she thunderously announces her presence and signals a willingness to discard outdated conventions. I, for one, cannot wait to see what Varsha does next with the cinematic form.
Final Score- [9/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
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Publisher at Midgard Times